Need
by clair beaubien
Summary: Missing scene to Need: what happened after Daniel broke down in the storage closet. Now up Ch2: Jack's POV
1. Chapter 1

All Daniel had been aware of for what seemed like years was pain and fear and sickness. His head hurt, his whole body hurt, his hands were shaking, he was too hot, and all he could be sure of was that he was dying and nobody cared. They kept him tied to a bed and said inane things about holding on and waiting it out when all he needed was to go back to the sarcophagus.

_All he needed…_

For most of his life, and certainly all of his adult life, Daniel had gotten what he needed for himself, by himself. A place to work, a place to live, an education. He'd even been his only company most of the last twenty years or so. Until Sha'are. Until Jack.

Now Sha'are was gone and Jack was trying to kill him.

Why didn't Jack care if he died?

The only reason Jack had followed him now into this supply room was to drag him back to the infirmary so he could be tied down again until he died. Why didn't they just let him go back to the planet? Back to Shyla. Back to the sarcophagus? Even if they hated him, at least then they'd be rid of him. Could they hate him so much that they'd stand by and watch him suffer this agonized spiral into death? All he needed was to get back to the sarcophagus.

_All he needed…_

He wasn't going to let Jack take him back to the infirmary. He wasn't going to let anybody do that. They didn't understand, Jack didn't understand. For the first time since he lost Sha'are, Daniel had felt good about himself. For the first time in his life, except for Sha'are, he'd felt – whole and invincible. Now, if he survived, he'd have to go back to how he felt before, how he was before. Empty. Lost. Different from everyone around him.

Jack didn't understand that. He didn't even know that Daniel _needed_ him to understand that.

So now they were faced off against each other on the floor of this dark, cold supply room. Daniel had the stolen gun pointed right at Jack, not five feet away. Why didn't Jack just leave him alone? Even if he couldn't get to the Stargate, Daniel would rather go off and die alone, without all the guards and surveillance cameras and sad faces of his former friends who just didn't understand what he needed.

The guards were coming, Jack had said. So let them come. Daniel had the gun, he'd do whatever he had to do. Better to go out fast than linger in this haze of pain and fear and confusion.

Confused? No, he wasn't confused. He knew exactly what was going on and why. Jack was here to drag him back to the infirmary, back to prison. He had to be, why else would he be here when Daniel was sick and scared and dying and threatening his life. Why else would he be here, risking that Daniel might shoot him?

_I know what this is_.

Jack said that. He didn't sound angry like he'd sounded since chasing Daniel in here. He sounded – like he was telling the truth. Like he was telling Daniel something that he knew Daniel didn't know. He knew what _what_ was? This was an escape attempt. Daniel knew what it was; he was the one attempting it.

_I know what it's like._

Still Jack's voice had that softly insistent sound of truth. He knew what _what_ was like? Being scared? Being so sick you knew you were dying? Holding a gun on your friend trying to force him to let you live? He knew what _what_ was like? He couldn't know what this was like.

_We can get through this._

We? Get through what? Get through Daniel being willing to throw everything and everyone away just to get back to the sarcophagus? Get through attacking his doctor, his guard, and now his friend? _We_ could get through that?

We?

Suddenly that word rang louder in his head than trying to figure out what 'we' would get through. There was no 'we'. There was never a 'we'. Except for his year with Sha'are, since his parents died, Daniel had never been part of a 'we'. Had he? Was he part of a 'we' now?

Jack said it. He said, '_we can get through this_.'

Through what? Through this sickening pain, this overwhelming fear? Daniel didn't want to get _through_ that, he wanted it to end. He didn't want 'we', he just wanted to go back to the sarcophagus and end this pain. There'd never been a 'we', he wouldn't believe he was part of one now. It was too much to hope for because it was all he ever wanted.

All the times he had no money and no home, when all his books and studies filled only his brain – he would've given anything to have one person just to talk to, and even then it seemed too much to ask. Now Jack was saying '_we'_. He and Daniel would get through this torment. It was too much to believe. Every second Daniel expected the guards to swarm in and power him back to the infirmary and the restraints. He expected Jack to take the gun and haul him back himself.

But if Jack said 'we', he meant it. That realization made a straight if slow path through Daniel's terror. Jack was here. Even after everything Daniel had done, Jack was here.

_We can get through this_.

In the face of that '_we'_, Daniel's last defenses shattered. Too tired and too sick to even let go of the gun, he started to cry. It was too much. The opposing feelings of fear and safety, sickness and comfort, exhaustion and the promise of rest were more than he could keep contained, and he cried.

He felt Jack move closer. He'd take the gun and say something smart-alecky to block his embarrassment and then the guards would come and take Daniel away. But Jack didn't say anything. Even before he took the gun from Daniel, Jack put his arm across Daniel's back and pulled him close. Daniel didn't need any encouragement to accept the comfort, the overwhelming physical presence of his friend. He was so tired, it was an automatic response to lean into Jack's shoulder and twist his fingers into the fabric of his sleeve.

He felt Jack wrap both arms around him, one hand on his head, the other rubbing his back. He still didn't say anything. Daniel cried harder, harsh sobs that choked out of him. It was all too much, the pain and fear and safety. He was crying like a child who'd been lost and frightened and finally found his way back home.

Jack tightened his hold for a few seconds, a hard squeeze as though to reassure Daniel that he was real and really there. Then – at first Daniel thought it was just his own body reacting to the stress, making him feel dizzy and off-balance. But that wasn't it. The feeling was real, the motion was – Jack, rocking him. Jack, with one hand on Daniel's head, and the other rubbing his back, had begun to rock Daniel gently back and forth.

In the midst of his pain and fear and surprise, Daniel felt himself flooded by the sensation. Jack was holding him, Jack was rocking him gently but steadily while Daniel clung to his arm and cried against his shoulder. Still, Daniel couldn't help thinking this was just a stopgap, a diversion to keep him quiet. Soon, the guards would come and Jack would let go and let them carry Daniel away. He heard their boots on the tile floor and his body instinctively tensed and he held his breath.

Someone spoke, it was Teal'c wasn't it? Asking if they were unharmed. Daniel felt Jack shifting and he steeled himself for the loss of this safety, but Jack only tightened his hold again and answered in a casual voice that everything was under control and they'd be out when they were ready. And the footsteps marched away again, the door closed, and Daniel let out the sobbing breath he'd been holding in.

He was so exhausted. His head pounded, his body hurt, and he was humiliating himself by clinging to Jack like a sick child crying for something that couldn't be helped. Jack continued to hold him close, stroking his back, rocking him steadily, until Daniel cried himself out against his shoulder. Now Jack would let go and Daniel was too tired to probably even hold himself upright without support.

But Jack didn't let go, and he didn't stop rocking.

Daniel didn't know what to think. Maybe Jack was waiting for Daniel to – what? Let go, sit back, say something? If that was the case, Daniel decided he would never move or speak again. He relaxed into Jack's strength with a sigh. Strange how strength could be manifested by the supremely gentle action of rocking a friend out of panic into rest. Some day Daniel would research it and find out if it had a parallel somewhere in mythology. Someday, but right now he just wanted to sleep.

Maybe he could sleep here, Jack would keep him safe. All he needed was some sleep. All he needed –

Well, it seemed Jack knew what he needed after all. In a matter of minutes he'd managed to bring Daniel from mayhem to peace. Who knew Jack could be that smart? Daniel was too tired to laugh, but his body gave it a try anyway. It sounded more like a cough than anything.

"How're you doing Danny Boy?" Jack whispered. He didn't stop rocking. The only answer Daniel could give was to shake his head against Jack's shoulder. "Take your time." Jack went on. "We've got all the time in the world. Just take your time."

Time. Did Daniel need time? Well, Jack seemed to think he needed time and for now at least, Jack seemed to have a pretty good idea what Daniel needed. Time. Time to feel safe, time to feel rested. Time to feel better.

Daniel lost himself in being rocked. He had the fleeting odd thought that he could become as addicted to being rocked as he had to the sarcophagus. More maybe, this sensation touched something deeper inside of him than the sarcophagus ever reached. The sarcophagus made him feel invincible, that he didn't need anybody. This, being held and being rocked, made him realize that he wasn't invincible, that he did need somebody, and – even more incredible – that 'somebody' was here.

He started to cry again, softer this time, and Jack gave him another reassuring squeeze. "You're going to be fine. Just hold onto me."

That was so easy to do. Daniel hung onto Jack's arm, his forehead still pressed into his shoulder. How could something so embarrassing feel so good? Just hold onto Jack and cry out all his pain and fear and grief.

His parents had never put up with tears and self pity from him. His foster parents had been only slightly more tolerant; still, any display of emotion had uniformly been met with the adjuration to '_be a man'_. In school, in college, his teachers and advisors were more interested in his academic progress than his emotional concerns.

With Sha'are, he'd never had a reason to be unhappy. Now, a year and a half of living without her, taking each step, each breath, with the hope of finding her again, had slowly scraped raw every nerve, every defense, every brick of the fortress of his pride, until finally now he was left with nothing but the sound of Jack's voice, the touch of his hands, and the steady steady rocking that was restoring the sanity to his soul.

Finally, even his quiet crying stopped, and Daniel sagged against Jack, panting, shivering now that the heat of his passion had gone.

"How're you doing Daniel? You're shaking." The rocking motion slowed and Daniel clutched Jack's arm.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't."

Five minutes ago, Daniel had been fighting Jack across this room and into these shelves. Now, he was begging Jack not to let go of him, and Jack was easily saying he wouldn't. Five minutes ago, Daniel had been desperate to Gate back to the sarcophagus and leave everything and everyone behind. Now he was desperate not to leave this dark, cold, supply closet and the comforting fold of Jack's arms.

Another few moments of that comfort and the world started coming into clearer focus for Daniel, and his memory seemed fuzzier. Why was he huddled here on the cold floor, with Jack holding onto him like he was afraid he'd disappear?

Because he'd broken down crying when he realized Jack wasn't going to hurt him or yell at him or drag him off to be put back in restraints.

And why would Jack want to do that?

Because Daniel had held on gun on him, fought with him, attacked his guard, attacked his doctor, broken out of the infirmary.

And why was he in the infirmary?

Because he'd collapsed in General Hammond's office. Because he'd wanted to resign. Because he'd deliberately destroyed part of Samantha's lab. Because he'd left his friends to suffer for days in that mine on that planet and he'd yelled at Jack and shrugged off all the concern he should've had for them and the reason they got in trouble in the first place was all his fault anyway.

With a gasp of pain and understanding, Daniel sat back and used the hand on Jack's arm to keep him away. In the half light from the doorway they were sitting next to, he saw the surprise and the confusion on Jack's face.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." With his free hand, Daniel scrubbed his face, trying to clear any evidence of his tears. But that arm still had the restraint buckled around it and he couldn't do much without nearly doing himself damage.

"Let's take that off of you." By Jack's voice, he knew something had changed, but didn't know what. Daniel was going to resist, but he wanted to be free of that last shackle. He watched Jack undo the strap and lay the whole thing aside. Then he turned Daniel's hand over. His wrist was red and starting to bruise from the force it had taken to break free in the infirmary. "We'll have the doc look at that. Let me see your other hand. How are your feet? Did you hurt yourself?"

Daniel let Jack take his other hand and turn it over, then he ran a hand over Daniel's bare feet and ankles.

"Are you okay?" he asked again. Daniel didn't look at him. "Did you get hurt when we were wrestling over there?" He sounded like he was trying to make light of what happened.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine. I'm sorry." Daniel spoke too fast, he knew it. He wiped his face again and kept avoiding Jack's eyes. He'd shown complete disregard for the team's safety and welfare, acted like an idiot, attacked Dr. Fraiser, attacked a guard, pulled a gun on Jack. Now to completely humiliate himself, he'd cried in front of Jack. He hadn't cried like that in front of anybody since – ever. Not when his parents died, not any of the long nights since he lost Sha'are. He'd cried like that by himself, alone in his apartment, more times than he could remember. But never in front of anybody.

He'd put Jack through all of this and now Jack was here making sure he hadn't hurt himself in his mania.

"I'm sorry." He said again. He wondered if he could say it enough times.

"Sorry for what?" Jack asked. He might be asking Daniel to catalogue everything they both knew he'd done, or he might really be wondering what Daniel was talking about. Daniel couldn't tell.

"Can we just go back?" He made a faint attempt to stand up; it took all the strength he had left and didn't get him anywhere anyway.

"In a minute. Let's just regroup first." Jack put a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." The words came out muffled as Daniel wiped his face again. He must've gotten them all by now, more tears couldn't be falling. His nose was probably running too. It always did when he cried. He just needed to get back to the infirmary. Dr. Fraiser would give him a sedative and he'd go off to that blurry place where he didn't remember anything. All he needed was to be where he was lost again, because it hurt too much to find himself here. He wiped his face again.

_All he needed…_

"Hold on a minute Daniel, let me just…" With a pat to Daniel's shoulder, Jack picked up the gun and got to his feet, his sentence trailing off into the dull echo. He was probably going to call the guards. When he was gone, Daniel tried again to stand up, but he just didn't have the strength. So he waited.

"Here." In the semi-darkness and starting to need his glasses again he couldn't quite make out what Jack was handing him. A box. He took it into his hands.

Kleenex. It was a box of Kleenex. Jack had even ripped the cardboard lid off and pulled the first tissue up to get him started. This time Daniel really had to laugh, and he had to take a deep breath to accomplish it.

"Thanks." He said, and a slight smile showed on his face. He risked one very brief glance at Jack. "_Send more_." He heard Jack chuckle as he repositioned himself in front of Daniel again. Daniel pulled out a couple of tissues and wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

"I'm sorry." He said again. He was still trembling, and the floor was cold under his bare feet.

"Sorry for what?" Jack asked again, and that time Daniel knew it was his 'you have nothing to be sorry for' tone of voice.

"For trying to shoot you." Daniel said. He didn't see the gun; Jack must've tucked it into the back of his belt.

"For crying out loud, you shot a light fixture. You and I both know you've never thought I was so bright that you'd confuse me with a light fixture." And that brought another genuine laugh out of Daniel, soft but sincere.

"Ya think?" he asked, but the deeper feeling wouldn't be held at bay. "You're angry with me."

"Damn right I'm angry with you." Jack agreed without hesitation. "What kind of stunt were you pulling here? Gallivanting all over the place where anything could happen to you. You were in that room, in that bed, in those restraints to protect you from more harm. What about a little trust?"

"I don't trust anybody." It came out faster than Daniel had intended. He wasn't sure he had intended to say it at all. Jack sighed. He didn't seem surprised.

_"I know."_

Daniel wished he could amend his statement; it wasn't that he didn't trust Jack with his life. He just didn't trust Jack – or anybody – with his shames, with his secrets. With his soul.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"For what?" Jack asked, sounding like he didn't need an answer.

"I hurt Dr. Fraiser."

"She's okay." Jack said, and Daniel looked up at him in surprise. He remembered what he did to her. Jack must've read that in his eyes; he shrugged. "She was rubbing her shoulder, but she said she was okay."

"I attacked the guard." Daniel offered, lowering his head again.

"Ah, that would explain this." Jack lifted Daniel's right hand again. In addition to the bruising around his wrist, his knuckles were raw.

"I was angry."

"I bet."

"I was scared."

"_I know_."

"I thought I was dying." These words were harder for Daniel to get out. "I thought – I thought –."

"You thought we didn't care if you were dying." Jack supplied.

"I didn't care what was happening to you down in that mine. You could've died down there and I wouldn't even have known it. I was mean to Sam, I hurt – _everybody._" Better to just save time and include all of humanity in there.

"And what do you think now? You still think we don't care what happens to you?"

It took several moments for Daniel to stammer out an answer. He couldn't say 'no', he didn't want to say 'yes'.

"I don't know." He pulled out a couple more tissues and swiped at tears he must've missed the first few times. He couldn't still be crying. "Stupid answer, hunh?" he asked. He peered up at Jack as he blew his nose again.

"Wellll, it's not the _smartest_ thing I've ever heard you say…" Jack pulled his knees up and crossed his arms over them. When he spoke again, his voice was serious. "But the way you've been feeling Daniel, I bet nothing's making sense."

More tears appeared from somewhere but Daniel didn't think he could still be crying.

"How can you say that?" he demanded. He ducked his head suddenly, sharply. "How can you sit there and defend me after – after – everything I did?"

"And how can you think I don't care about you after everything _I've_ done?" Jack asked evenly. That brought Daniel's head back up. He looked at Jack, feeling like he was seeing him for the first time. This wasn't the gruff, smart-alecky, condescending Air Force Colonel who, if he ever got caught doing something nice, brushed it off as an accident. This was…

_His friend._

"Oh gee." Daniel grabbed fresh tissues just in time to press them against his eyes as he did cry again.

"Daniel?" Jack asked, very concerned. Daniel waved it off and wiped his eyes and his nose, and shook his head.

"No, it's all right, I'm okay. It's just – I'm an idiot."

Jack seemed to consider this.

"Well, it would be rude of me to disagree."

Daniel grinned. His face felt tight and his eyes were swollen and it was uncomfortable, but he couldn't help grinning despite how bad he felt physically and emotionally. Jack grinned back at him.

"What d'ya say we find someplace more comfortable to sit? This floor is cold and if I know Teal'c he's standing guard at the door, glaring at anybody who comes near."

Daniel looked up in the direction of the door. Another memory surfaced.

"Oh no – I attacked Teal'c too, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." Jack answered, patiently. Then he shrugged one shoulder and offered: "He startled you." Daniel covered his eyes with his hands.

"Please tell me I didn't do anything to General Hammond?"

"Well, you threw your resignation at him and then collapsed on his floor, but it was nothing that required medical attention or dry cleaning."

Daniel sighed and dried his eyes _again _while Jack watched him for a few moments, probably gauging his temper, and his physical condition.

"Think you can stand?"

"No."

"All right, hold on." Jack stood, and turned to the door. "Teal'c?" he called and the door opened immediately.

"Yes O'Neill?"

Clutching the box of Kleenex, Daniel ducked his head so that Teal'c couldn't see his face, and so that he didn't have to see Teal'c's face.

"Will you grab a wheelchair from the infirmary?"

"At once." When he left, he shut the door. Jack crouched down again.

"I think that'll be better than trying to negotiate you on bare feet through the broken glass."

Broken glass. The shattered light fixture. Daniel had fired the gun right over Jack's head.

"I'm sorry."

"We definitely need to increase your vocabulary Daniel. Come on, let's get you at least standing." He lifted Daniel to his feet and kept an arm around him to support him.

"I can walk." Daniel offered. Maybe if he stopped being so much trouble…

"Not through the glass."

Daniel didn't answer that. He couldn't walk through the glass and any other way out of this supply closet was the long way around and right now his legs wouldn't carry him as far as the next floor tile. His only option was to wait with Jack.

The door opened and Teal'c came in with the wheelchair. Daniel ducked his head just as far as he could get it, and Jack rubbed his shoulder.

"We're all friends Daniel." He whispered. "We're all friends."

_Friends I couldn't have cared less about._ Daniel thought. _Friends I attacked, friends I insulted. Friends I don't deserve to have._ He felt Jack urging him forward and he stared at his bare feet scuffing across the cold floor. Then he stared at the wheels of the wheelchair. Anything but look up at Teal'c.

"Daniel-Jackson, do you require assistance?"

"NO!" Daniel didn't mean to shout. "No – no. Thanks. No." Having Teal'c help him would be too much. "I'm fine. Really. Please."

If Teal'c so much as moved in his direction, Daniel was going to beg Jack to intervene, but Teal'c didn't move. Daniel only felt Jack's hands under his elbows as he hugged the Kleenex box to himself.

"C'mon Daniel. Let's get you into the chair and back to your room." Jack sounded tired now, or maybe fed up. Daniel couldn't blame him for being fed up. Now it was going to happen, now Jack was going to take him back to the isolation room, back to the restraints, back to being alone and shut in somewhere he couldn't get in the way.

Well fine, it didn't matter anyway, did it? He was too tired to care and too much trouble to deserve better. It didn't matter.

But it did matter.

As Daniel sat in the wheelchair, Jack leaned over to put down the foot pedals and get Daniel's feet on them. Daniel turned his head down so that maybe he could catch Jack's eyes and when he did, he whispered again,

"_I'm sorry."_ Would he ever be able to say it enough?

Jack immediately crouched down next to him.

"We'll talk about everything later, Daniel. Right now I just want to make sure you're okay. Okay?"

"Okay."

That meant he was going back to the restraints. Back to being watched and whispered about and isolated. Jack got a look on his face like he knew Daniel was lying, but then he smiled and reached up to pat the side of Daniel's face.

"We can get through this." He said again. Daniel ducked his head and hugged the Kleenex box tighter and gave a shaky nod. Jack could say that. He wasn't the one who couldn't walk away from this.

One more pat on his shoulder, and Jack stood up to start wheeling Daniel back to the infirmary. Daniel watched the floor roll past between the foot pedals, Teal'c a fixed guard on his right side.

"I have taken the liberty of insuring that no one will be in the hallway." Teal'c said, and Daniel wondered if he was talking to him or to Jack. "Captain Carter also informed me that she would alert the nursing staff to ready Daniel-Jackson's room for reoccupancy."

_Meaning they were putting new restraints on the bed._ Daniel thought. Well, did he deserve anything else? At least that way he could be sure he wouldn't hurt anybody again.

Too soon, they got to the room. Daniel kept his head down, still he could see that Sam was in there with a nurse. He watched their feet walk across the floor towards him and felt that involuntary tension again that they were going to speak to him, or touch him. Sam even started to say his name, but she cut off abruptly.

"We'll take it from here." Jack said. He might've been cutting Sam off. Nobody moved for a moment until Jack added a little pointedly, "_We'll call if we need anything_."

Then Daniel watched the nurse's feet walk past and probably out the door. Sam started to walk past, then she stopped and Daniel felt her hand on his shoulder. He tried hard not to shrink from her touch, but he couldn't stop the tremor of apprehension that ran through him.

"It's going to be okay." She whispered. She sounded upset. Daniel hugged the Kleenex closer and bent his head down as far as he could. She hesitated. He could feel her hesitation, the way her touch seemed to shiver on his shoulder. Then she squeezed hard before walking out of the room. When Daniel heard the door close behind her, he lifted his head.

Jack sat on the bed in front of him. There were no restraints to be seen, just a pile of infirmary pajamas, a bathrobe, and a pair of socks. Suddenly Daniel felt like all would be right with the world if he could just get his feet warm again.

"How're you doing?" Jack asked. His voice was gentle, and he sounded like he really wanted to know.

"I don't know." Daniel had to admit. He knew from experience Jack wouldn't want vague descriptions of angst or dread; he'd want the plain, absolute facts. "I feel disoriented. I feel anxious. I'm cold and I'm – hungry." That last one surprised Daniel. "I think it's been awhile since I ate anything."

"We can fix that." Jack said. He stood up from the bed. "Why don't you see about getting changed?" He indicated the pile of clothes and the door that led to the bathroom. "I'll see about getting you something to eat."

"Okay."

Standing up was harder than Daniel expected it to be and Jack gave him a hand, swinging the foot pedals out of the way and keeping him steady until he was upright. His muscles felt like he'd just run an obstacle course. Shuffling stiffly, hanging onto the box of Kleenex, he picked up the clothes and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. Taking a shower was entirely out of the question if he wanted to remain standing, so he washed up at the sink before changing.

For a minute he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was unnaturally pale in the fluorescent light, with his eyes starkly red and swollen. Maybe it wasn't the light though, maybe it was just his current state.

He was about to put the socks on when he heard another person out in the room, talking to Jack. Now they were bringing in the restraints, so there was probably no reason to put the socks on since they would probably remove them again before restraining him. But God, he didn't want to be restrained again. He only wanted to sleep.

Finally, he decided that even if they did restrain him, at least he'd be in bed and he could go to sleep. Jack would put a blanket over him if he said he was cold. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Short of being allowed to go home, Daniel was going to be kept under watch no matter where he was on the base, so this room, that bed, those restraints, were just as good as any other option.

With a sigh of resignation, he picked up his Kleenex, and opened the bathroom door.

He didn't see guards or restraints. It was still just Jack and the neatly made bed. This time though, a tray sat on the overbed tray table. Scrambled eggs, toast, skim milk, and Jell-O.

"Dinner's here." Jack said. "Or breakfast. Or whatever time of the day it is. You need help with those?" he indicated the socks.

"What? No, I just was gonna sit on the bed to put them on. Thanks." Daniel managed to ease himself onto the bed and had to rest a bit before pulling the socks on. He could've just laid down then, across the bed, and fallen dead asleep, but Jack pushed the tray table closer. Daniel noticed the only utensil he'd been given.

"A spoon?" he asked, picking it up.

"I wasn't going to take the chance of you hurting yourself." Jack explained. He sounded stern, but he added gently. "The way your hands are shaking, you'd poke yourself in the eye, no question."

And the way Daniel's hands were shaking, that was probably true.

"Thanks," he said, and he meant it. One more thing that Jack knew he needed.

He started to eat while Jack got comfortable in the uncomfortable chair. Even with his hands shaking, he managed to feed himself, and everything tasted great.

"These are the best eggs I ever had."

"It's the company." Jack assured him.

"Sure." And Daniel found he was able to smile again, despite his overall physical and emotional exhaustion. "Thanks for the Jell-O too."

"Well when you go through withdrawal, you get the munchies." Jack said, and hastily added "I've heard." While trying to look innocent.

"Withdrawal? Is that what this is?" That surprised Daniel. "I thought I was just being an ass."

"Well, there was that too." Jack allowed, but he softened his agreement with a smile and an admission. "I think being on that planet made us all a little cranky."

"That's interesting. I wonder if it has anything to do with the naquada?" Daniel finished the eggs and most of the toast, but held his spoon poised over the Jell-O as a new idea took hold of him. "I mean, granted, the larger quantity of it in the sarcophagus plus the concentrated and repeated delivery of it into my system produced a much more intense reaction…"

All of Daniel's assorted hurts were momentarily forgotten as his mind grabbed hold of an intriguing question.

"Daniel?"

"But still, even the limited contact you had with it down in the mine -."

"**Daniel**."

"It might be worthwhile doing a study – I mean we have no idea of the long term effects of exposure to -."

"_**Daniel**__._"

That stopped Daniel in mid thought. "Jack?"

"As fascinating as I'm sure that line of discovery is for you, I think you're missing the immediate point here."

Daniel dropped his eyes and started to eat the Jell-O. He didn't say anything. Jack sat forward in his chair.

"You're going through withdrawal Daniel." His voice was gentle. "And I don't think it's even mostly a physical withdrawal you're going through."

"Wh-wh-what do you mean? Not physical? What else – that's all – what – I don't know what you mean?" Daniel wasn't as confused as he wanted to be..

"Daniel, I'm no doctor and I'm sure no psychologist, but I think you have to agree that there was more going on than just physical addiction."

"I didn't love Shyla." Daniel blurted. He remembered what he'd said to Sam about Sha'are; it shamed him now to think how cavalierly he'd dismissed the love and light and center of his soul. "That's not why I wanted to stay there. It was the sarcophagus."

Trying to cover his embarrassment, he took a mouthful of Jell-O that was almost a too big. He swallowed it and wiped the back of his hand across his lip and didn't look at Jack.

"I just wanted to – to – help those people. They're in slavery. You know better than even I do what – what – they're suffering down there in the mine. I wanted to – to help them. To free them. It wasn't – I don't -." He finally looked at Jack. He whispered, "I love Sha'are."

"I know you do Daniel. That's what I'm talking about. If you could stay on a planet with a woman you didn't love, you'd still be faithful to Sha'are in the one way that still counts – with your heart."

Daniel felt the anger and loss welling up in his eyes.

It seemed Jack had more to say, but he was cut off when the door opened. Daniel looked behind to see who was coming in. It was Dr. Fraiser – and a guard carrying a new set of restraints. Daniel thought he would throw up.

He closed his eyes and let the spoon fall into the bowl of Jell-O. Fine. Get it over with. Why not.

He heard Jack stand up from the plastic chair and suddenly Daniel had to know. He looked Jack square in the eyes. "Do I need those?" If Jack said he did, then it would be okay. But Daniel hoped Jack wouldn't say he needed them.

Jack looked from Daniel back to the doctor, with that look on his face like he got caught in something he didn't want to have to be the one to get out of.

"Wwwellll…" he came right up close to Daniel and folded his hands on the overbed table. "Do you remember why you needed those before?"

Yes. Vividly.

"So I wouldn't hurt anybody." Daniel said. He guessed Jack must think he still needed them.

"So you wouldn't hurt yourself." Jack corrected him. "Are you planning on doing anything to hurt yourself?"

"No." Daniel wouldn't look up at Jack.

"Are you planning on doing anything that might endanger anyone else?"

"No."

"What do you think you might be doing for the next eight or twelve hours?" Jack asked, and Daniel sighed. He was bone tired.

"I just want to sleep." He figured Jack would say that as long as he was going to be in bed anyway, he might as well have the restraints on. "That's all, I just want to sleep."

"Then I don't think you need those." Jack said. Daniel looked up in surprise. He almost didn't believe it. "_BUT_ -." Jack went on. "I am going to stay here and watch you and if I think for even one second you're becoming a danger to yourself or anybody else, I will put those on you myself. Got that?"

Daniel nodded that he understood, but all he could think was that he didn't need the restraints. He could lie down and go to sleep and he wouldn't be restrained and Jack would be there to watch over him. All he wanted was to sleep. All he needed was to sleep.

Jack gave him a smile, one of those 'yeah, I thought that would make you happy' smiles, and then he nodded at the doctor.

"I think you might need to look at his hand." He pulled the table out of the way and added to Daniel, "Then you can get some sleep."

Daniel let Dr. Fraiser wrap his raw, swollen knuckles in gauze and tape with no comment. He wanted to apologize, he had to apologize, but he wanted to wait until he felt stronger. He wanted to wait until he didn't feel like an idiot anymore so he could say what he meant and know that she knew he understood what he'd done. Right now all he felt he could offer her was a complacent patient.

Janet smiled at him and patted his arm and gave him a brief but thorough once over before surrendering him back to Jack's care.

"Just sleep." She told him, both of them. "If anything changes, let me know. Otherwise, just sleep." Jack escorted her to the door, and Daniel heard him whisper something to her before she left. Then he shut the door and came back to the bed.

"Come on, let's get you settled. I don't want her coming back in here saying I can't take care of you." As he spoke, Jack took the box of Kleenex to set on the bedside stand, he pulled the blankets back and steadied Daniel until he was lying back against the pillows. He pulled the blankets back up.

"You let me know if you need anything, I'll be right here." He told Daniel.

"Thanks." He meant for everything, absolutely everything. "And I'm sorry." For absolutely everything.

"We'll talk about that some other time." Jack said. "If either one of us remembers it later…" He smiled but for the first time, Daniel saw the exhaustion on Jack's face. "Let's just both get some rest."

Daniel nodded and turned under the blankets to curl on his side. He thought sleep would overpower him immediately, but something didn't feel right. He thought about it a minute, letting his mind travel back over the last hour, trying to figure out what might be wrong. Finally, he realized what it was.

He reached over to snag the box of Kleenex. Pulling it under the blankets, he hugged it to his chest and finally closed his eyes. Just as sleep took hold, Daniel thought he heard Jack chuckle.

The end.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Per Ardua ad Astra (through adversity to the stars) **_

Did you ever have one of those moments where everything becomes clear in a single instant, and even a lifetime of things that don't seem to add up suddenly mark out a path as clear as a runway?

Everything - everything - became clear to me in that instant in the supply room. I admit, I'd been angry up to that point, thinking Daniel was just being an idiot, trying to patch his broken heart by giving in to Shyla's somewhat besotted attentions. You don't leave your teammates to suffer. That's just a given. So when I asked him if he was trying to kill me and he shouted "You're trying to kill me," well I just didn't have an answer for him because I was interested in doing him bodily harm at that moment.

But when I asked it again, after we fought and Daniel was on the floor next to the doorway, with the gun pointed right at me, when I asked him again "Are you going to shoot me?" and he looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about - and at that moment I understood everything all at once.

When we were trapped on P-whatever with that lousy 'Keeper' making us relive two of the most horrendous moments in our lives, Daniel never said "my parents". When

I hollered at the Keeper, asking him why he thought I'd want to see my friends get their heads blown off, Daniel added "or their parents killed".

He didn't say "my parents."

Maybe I would've thought about it more if the moment I'd been forced to relive was losing Charlie. It seems the Keeper was going by length of time of memories, not intensity. Though for Daniel, I'm sure it's both.

Though for Daniel, I'm sure it's not just losing his parents that eats away at him.

When the Keeper made him relive his parents' deaths, he got to maybe try all the different ways of saving them that he'd probably fantasized about his whole life – and none of them worked. No matter what, he couldn't save them.

There's something sustaining in believing you could've changed history. If nothing else, you can blame yourself all your life and know that if only you'd been older, stronger, smarter, faster, better, whatever, you wouldn't have suffered the way you did.

As though if you could only be better now, that suffering never would've happened.

So what did we do? Right after P-whatever and Daniel with adult eyes seeing his parents die over and over again, we gate to Shyla's planet. Daniel – still filled with that lifelong need to save somebody – grabs Shyla before she takes a header off the cliff, an event which gets us into trouble in the first place.

Then down in the mine, he gets buried in a pile of rock. He probably thought he deserved dying the way his parents did because he couldn't save them. He blames himself for Shaare, for Skaara. He lost his wife, his home, and the only family he's probably known since he left foster care, and every planet we don't find Shaare on only makes it worse. If a few trips in a sarcophagus could make all that pain go away – why wouldn't he let himself be "forced" into it?

But I never thought about it until that moment.

"What are you going to do Daniel? Are you going to shoot me?" A valid question

I think, since the gun was practically at my nose. I thought he was going to say not if I left him alone, or not if I took him to the Stargate, or maybe even he'd say yes. He couldn't even hold himself upright. He tried to keep both hands on the gun, but he had to put one hand down on the floor to keep himself upright.

"Are you going to shoot me?"

And his eyes got wide. With the gun in his hand pointed right at me, he had no idea why I thought he might kill me. He even shook his head slightly. He had no idea.

That's when it hit me. He didn't want to kill me, he didn't even really want to go back to Shyla. He just wanted all the pain and grief and regrets to stop. He'd convinced himself that he loved Shyla as the excuse to stay on the planet with the sarcophagus. Like an alcoholic who drinks to forget and has to stay drunk to keep forgetting, Daniel just wanted the pain to stop even if it meant destroying himself in the sarcophagus.

In a lot of ways, Daniel is still a kid, no matter how long he's been grown up. Being a kid, he thought he was the only one who's ever felt this way about his life, that it was suddenly too painful to bear. That's why he broke out of the restraints and attacked anybody who tried to stop him. And why not? His whole life is a track record of not fitting in, being an outsider. Why think it would be any different now? Why not assume no one else would understand this?

But I understood it. I knew pretty well how you can get addicted to the idea that you can dose your pain away, even more than you can get addicted to the actual substance you dose yourself with. I know that, I understand that. But Daniel had no idea.

So I told him.

"I know what this is. I know what it's like."

Again I got the wide eyed disbelief. Either he didn't believe I knew what it was, or he didn't want to believe. I knew that too – sometimes you don't want to share your pain or believe it's as bad for other people. If I'd been less of a jerk about that, my wife might never have left me. But I knew what it was and dammit all if I was going to let Daniel get lost in it the way I'd tried.

"We can get through this."

I whispered that. Daniel probably had enough noise going on inside his head, he didn't need me yelling at him, even if I'd be yelling a good thing. He was trying so hard to hold it all inside of himself that only one hair sticking out on his head was quivering.

That was all.

Finally, what I said made sense to him, or at least got through to him. He started shaking. He started crying. He brought his hand up to cover his face, but he still wasn't staying upright, and he had to put it down again for a second to balance himself.

When I first walked into the storage room, my only thought was to get the gun away from Daniel so that he wouldn't hurt himself or anybody else. Especially when he shot the fluorescent light over my head. Now getting the gun was a secondary concern, if it even rated that much.

It's not that I didn't expect Daniel to break down; he was strung so tight it was either that or throw a seizure. I just wasn't expecting it to be so overwhelming. He didn't even look like himself he was so far gone.

Finally the tension left him and he slumped forward, an unspoken way of surrendering. I could've done anything then and I knew Daniel wouldn't resist. I could yell at him, haul him back to the infirmary, I could've probably whacked him a good one for being an idiot and he wouldn't have resisted one bit. He was just sobbing into his hand, eyes shut, he hadn't even let go of the gun.

He didn't need blame, he didn't need 'I told you so.' He just needed to know everything would be okay, he would get through this, he would survive.

So after I made sure the gun was out of his hand and out of the way, I put my arms around him and held onto him. That was what he needed. Violent people are scared, that's why they're violent. So they need to know they're safe. Daniel needed to know he was safe, he needed to know that he hadn't absolutely ruined everything. I mean, this is Daniel. He feels bad if he gets irritated and it shows in his voice. Imagine what this was going to do to him.

I also just wanted to hold him. He'd been walking through hell for over a year now, with no complaints, barely a word about what was going on inside of him.

Whatever happens, he just picks himself up and keeps going and I never really realized till now how much it must've taken out of him each time. The way he was sobbing now just about broke my heart. I just wanted to hold onto him and let him know everything would be okay.

That made me wonder - when was the last time I asked him if he was okay? It used to be a pretty standard question. We'd be finishing a mission, either just arrived back through the Stargate, or just about to walk through, and Daniel would be standing there bleeding his soul out through his eyes because he'd missed his chance with Shaare by a hair, or we hadn't found any sign of her at all, and I'd ask him, 'are you okay?'

Teal'c no doubt would say, "I see no blood on Daniel-Jackson." But I could see it.

Anybody could see it if they looked. Daniel never has a thought in his mind or in his heart that doesn't show up on his face as clearly as if it was typed on a blank piece of paper. I don't have to see tears to know he's crying, and I don't need to see blood to know he's wounded.

So I'd ask him if he was okay, not because I couldn't see it on his face, but because I needed to hear his answer. You learn in the military to gauge a person's answer, not by whether it's really true or false, but whether it's true or false *to them*.

I've seen an airman whine about a blister when he had to walk to his dresser for a clean pair of socks, and I've seen an airman with his leg blown off give a 'thumbs up' as he's being loaded onto a medevac chopper.

When he's got the blister you can ask him if he wants a wheelchair and a Purple Heart. When his leg's blown off, you ask him why he's laying around when there's work to be done.

It doesn't matter what I think, it matters what he thinks.

When was the last time I asked Daniel if he was okay?

I started to rock him, it was instinct more than anything else. There are all kinds of grief and this was the kind that needed the full response. It was like the time Charlie's pet turtle died and Charlie thought it was his fault because he hadn't said goodbye to the thing that morning before school or something. I mean he was only in Kindergarten. And maybe he was having a bad day anyway. But there was just no consoling him and I held him and rocked him all night that night.

So now I rocked Daniel because he had that same grief of guilt built up inside him and words weren't going to do him much good because he was too far gone to hear anything anyway. He'd been hearing words for a couple of days now, strapped to a bed and pumped full of sedatives. Those words hadn't done him any good, he needed something much more basic. So I kept my hand on the back of his head to let him know by touch he should keep his head where it was on my shoulder. I rubbed his back with my other hand because touch is soothing. I read that on an herbal tea box I think. Anyway it seemed like a good idea.

And I rocked him.

The door burst open then – Teal'c in the lead no doubt. The depth of his concern for us amazes me sometimes. He doesn't give it out of a sense of obligation or guilt. As a matter of fact he doesn't give it at all. It just is. Like on the prison planet we were on, El Dente or whatever it was, and that guy tried to touch Daniel, and Teal'c picked him up by his neck. God help anybody who touched anyone of SG1. Teal'c would tear them limb from limb. And he'd probably smile while he did it.

Anyway, when the door opened, I could feel Daniel hold his breath. I'd warned him the guards were coming - you know, back a few minutes before when I was really pissed at him. I would've let the guards haul him back to the infirmary bodily then, kicking and screaming if necessary.

But not now. I had to protect him now.

He didn't know that though, so he held his breath and tensed, waiting to be hauled away.

I told Teal'c that we were fine and give us some time and they left again and

Daniel let out one really pent up sob against my shoulder. Relief maybe that nobody was going to hurt him. I don't know. I just held him tighter and kept rocking. I knew this could take awhile. It'd been building for twenty years after all.

So I kept rocking him.

It took awhile but he stopped crying. He coughed and I asked him if he was OK and he said no. Then he started crying again, quieter. Not like he'd run out of energy, more like he found something different to cry about. I'm sure he did, he's got a lot going on in his mind all at the same time. I told him everything would be OK.

That crying stopped too and I asked him if he was okay, and he asked me to keep rocking him, so I did. I was glad that it was okay that I was holding him. Normally he seems so closed off, physically. I mean, except for Sha'are, I can't think of a single time when I've seen Daniel initiate physical contact with another person. I thought he might be embarrassed too, but there's no reason to be. I've been in the aftermath of combat where guys as big and bad as Teal'c have lost it. Daniel's not the first teammate I've had to comfort, but he is the most – I was going to say fragile but he's not. He's the most resilient person I've ever met. But he is the most – I don't know what. I don't know what word I'm looking for. Maybe it is because he's usually so resilient that seeing him break down like this really worried me.

I always keep an eye out for Daniel. He may not always like it, he may not even always notice, but I do. Like in El Dente. I sent Daniel with Teal'c because of the four of us, I thought Daniel was the most likely to get into trouble and the least likely to defend himself other than verbally. Talk isn't worth much in prison. And didn't he end up pissing off Gargantua?

Okay, I'm a guy and maybe I shouldn't be saying this about another guy but –

Daniel has got the most gentle soul I know of. He might get his head handed to him, he might get zatted or ribboned or – or Hathored - but I worry more about his soul than I do his body.

Maybe something with Shyla resurrected some memories of Hathor. That would be bad too. He was going to have a lot to sort through when he was clear of this withdrawal.

Just when I thought he was going to fall asleep there on my shoulder – which would've been okay – suddenly he sat up and pushed me away. I guessed some other memory had surfaced. I asked him what was wrong but he kept saying he was sorry and he was fine. Well, I had no doubt he felt sorry but no way was he fine.

He was brushing at his eyes and just about blinding himself with the one restraint he hadn't removed, so I made a show of getting it off of him, checking his feet in case we'd fought through the broken glass. I figured he might need a minute or two to get his thoughts and his resiliency back on track.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Again.

Again, he was sorry, he was okay, he was sorry. Then he was fine and he wanted to go back to the infirmary. Now I knew for an absolute fact that he didn't want to go back there. He was still crying, not sobbing, but I could see tears still rolling down his face and I got the feeling that it was bothering him. So, to give us both another couple of minutes, I told him to hang on and I went to get him some Kleenex.

I picked up the gun as I stood up. I trust Daniel, but I'm not an idiot.

He looked at the box of Kleenex like he didn't know what it was. Finally though he actually smiled and said thanks. _Thanks, send more_ was what he said. He even laughed, and I laughed too just because he did, and I sat on the floor in front of him.

Then he said he was sorry. Again. For trying to shoot me. Well, he might be a civilian but even in his current sorry state, even he wouldn't have aimed so high if he meant to hit me. I'm sure he was yelling enough at himself about doing that so I didn't need to add to his guilt. I just made a joke about him mistaking me for a light fixture because I'm so bright. And he laughed again. It was good to hear that. But when he asked if I was mad at him I wasn't about to pussyfoot around.

I told him straight out damn right I was angry with him, risking getting hurt even worse when all we were doing was trying to take care of him. I said he should trust us. As soon as I said it though, I knew the answer. He doesn't trust us. Daniel doesn't trust anyone very easily.

Oh, he'd let me use his car or he'd leave money on his desk without worrying about it. I know he trusts me with his life whenever we're on a mission. Sometimes I think he might trust me too much. Like when we were on Apophis's ship, trying to stop him invading earth. We ducked in somewhere to hide from the snake heads. I had my knife in the doorway, keeping a peephole, watching for a break, and I heard Daniel ask,

"Jack – what's going on?"

I mean, we're on a Goauld ship, Teal'c is right there, I'm looking the other way, and he asks me what's going on?

But when it comes to his own hurts, his own needs, when it comes to anything personal, Daniel does not trust easily. He didn't battle his way out of the infirmary because Fraiser put him in restraints, he did it because he thought nobody was looking out for him. He might trust me to watch his back in a fire fight, but he didn't trust me to care about him.

So he said he was sorry. Again.

For what? I asked him.

For hurting Dr. Fraiser. For attacking his guard.

Well I was sure Janet had already forgiven him, and the guard might have a headache for a few days but I think Daniel had done as much damage to his own hand as he had to the guard.

Finally we got to the crux of the matter. Anyway, Daniel finally admitted that he was scared and angry and afraid he was dying and nobody cared. That's why he broke free and ran. Because he thought he was going to die without anyone caring.

Of course Daniel – being Daniel – tried to rationalize it by pointing out how he'd left us down in the mine without really caring what we were going through. Well, I was still mad at him about that so I just stepped over it and asked him if he still thought we didn't care.

Daniel – being Daniel – couldn't answer it untruthfully and apparently wouldn't answer it truthfully. So he hedged with 'I don't know'. Then he allowed that it might not be the best answer, and I agreed with him. Give him a Mayan temple with one pot and a fire pit and he can not only tell you what folks had for supper four thousand years ago, he can tell you why they had it. But ask him to come clean on his own emotions and he can't.

So I told him I understood, he's been having a hard time after all. Like I said, I think seeing his parents die again – and again – affected him more than he let on. We still hadn't found Sha'are and having Shyla there more than willing and ready might've been too much even for Daniel to resist. I know he was worried about us being down in the mine, well at least that first day he was. And I'm sure he was beating himself up about it now. So he was just having a hard time and I told him I understood.

You know what? He yelled at me.

Daniel _yelled_ at me.

Here I'm trying to be a stand up guy and a friend and make him feel better by telling him I understand and he yells at me that I shouldn't be trying to make him feel better after everything he did.

Everything _he_ did.

You know, for somebody as generous and humble and unassuming as Daniel usually is, sometimes he can be the most self-centered person I've ever met. Especially when there's an extra helping of guilt to be had, Daniel always has to have it.

Not that he does it in that fake 'I'll pretend to take the blame so that everyone will tell me I'm not at fault' way some people have. Daniel truly believes he's at fault. He truly believes that in the great list of good and bad, his column adds up heavy under the 'bad.' And he doesn't know how anyone could forgive him for that. For everything that he did.

"And how can you think I don't care about you after everything I've done?" I had to ask him.

Not even counting sitting here with him when not fifteen minutes ago he was holding a gun on me, what about this whole past year and a half? Did he think I asked him all the time how he was doing just to make conversation? What did he think all the coffee and lunches and late night talks were about? Didn't he know that I care? Didn't that ever once occur to him?

Guess not, judging from the look he gave me after I asked him. He stared at me like I was a pictogram sitting where he didn't expect to find me. Like I was familiar but somehow out of context.

All of a sudden he started to cry again. He grabbed some more Kleenex and cried into them and I wondered what I'd done, if I made him remember something painful or what was going on. So I asked him and he said he was OK, he was just an idiot and I told him he's not.

OK, I told him he is, but if I told him he's not he wouldn't believe me anyway.

Anyway I got a smile out of him, so it was worth it.

I thought maybe it was time to get him back to the infirmary. If we took too much longer I don't think even Teal'c would be able to keep Fraiser out of here.

But you know, it's damn hard to get Daniel to move when he has to catalogue his guilt before he'll get to his feet. This time, it was Teal'c. He remembered fighting Teal'c. Well, really, Teal'c startled Daniel. Sort of. And if you think about it, Daniel bodily throwing anybody anywhere, much less Teal'c, is quite a feat. But Daniel was already on to General Hammond and fortunately he hadn't done anything worse than be short with him. Which – truth be told – Daniel has been known to be short with the General when he's not under the influence of a mind altering substance.

I held off reminding him of that and asked him if he thought he could stand. I didn't think he could, but I wanted to give him the chance. But he didn't think so either so I called Teal'c. I knew he was standing right outside that door and he was. He was in the door almost before I finished saying his name.

Some people might think – in fact, some people have said – that Teal'c protects

Daniel especially because of his involvement with Sha'are's abduction, but I know that's not it. We're teammates, we're family. If Teal'c puts an extra spin on the care he takes of

Daniel it's because Daniel –

It's not because Daniel is reckless or thoughtless or stupid about his own safety.

Daniel's just got that trusting, need-to-help, give-them-a-chance innocence about him.

Like I said, zat him, blast him, Hathor him, he picks himself up and goes on. But harm his spirit and you've done real damage to him. Not that we'd prefer physical damage, or any damage at all. It's just that on a team you know each other's strengths and weaknesses and you compensate for them.

So as soon as Teal'c opened the door – which by the way they did need to tighten the hinges afterward – I asked him to get a wheelchair. Daniel didn't think he could walk and anyway, he was barefoot in broken glass. That wouldn't be good.

"I'm sorry." He says. Again. I bet Daniel knows how to say that in every language across the galaxy.

Anyway, I helped him stand up, then he says he can walk. I don't think so

Danny. My Dad always said if you get cut on fluorescent glass, it never heals. No way am I earning Fraiser's wrath for that. So, we stood there and waited for his ride. I had my arm around him, keeping him upright, and he had that box of Kleenex folded in his arms like he was hugging a stuffed animal. He'd left a small pile of used Kleenex on the floor behind him, but that's what the government pays our Maintenance staff for.

Teal'c came back in with a wheelchair and Daniel ducked his head so far so fast I thought he'd give himself whiplash. God Daniel, what's gone on in the rest of your life?

The only times I've ever ducked my head the way he does all the time is when I think I'm about to get whacked. And it's sure never happened enough times to make it an automatic gesture with me.

"We're friends Daniel." I tell him. I shouldn't need to tell him but I do. I want him to say _'I know'_, I want him to say something, but he doesn't and I have to give him a little push to start walking to the wheelchair.

When Teal'c asks him if he needs help I can almost feel Daniel jump out of his skin. He just about hollers 'no' and Teal'c gives me one of those eyebrow-up questioning glances. I just shake my head. This goes deeper than Shyla and her love machine and I almost don't want to know all the hurt that's jumping around inside Daniel's head just now. Teal'c backs off and I almost have to physically put Daniel in the chair. All of a sudden I feel exhausted.

How long has it been? A year? A year and a half since we started planet hopping.

Each time Daniel goes through the Gate believing we'll find Sha'are this time. Each time he comes back through the Gate believing we'll find Sha'are next time. And why does he believe that? Because I told him so. I told him so and he believes me like a kid who doesn't know grown ups can be wrong a lot of the time.

All of a sudden, I feel really old.

I bent down to help him get his feet on the foot pedals. When I straightened up Daniel was staring at me. "I'm sorry." Again. I told him we'd talk about it later, I just wanted to get him safe and sound. But you know something? I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted Daniel to get it. Things went wrong, he's sorry, he's forgiven - but he wouldn't let go of it.

He said "Okay." but he was lying. I knew he was lying and I think he knew I knew. It wasn't OK with him, and I knew he didn't want to go back to the infirmary and the restraints. And - he didn't want to go forward into a world I'm pretty sure he was pretty sure no longer wanted him. So I told him again that we could get through this. We could get through it, if he'd only trust me. But that was going to be a tough sell.

He kept his head down and I pushed the wheelchair out of the closet and back to his room. Teal'c told us the hallways were clear and I bet he'd managed to clear them without saying a word. And he said Carter was getting the room ready again. Good. Maybe Daniel would lie down and go to sleep without a fuss. Both of us needed a rest.

Daniel made the whole short trip with his head down. I never knew anybody who found his own feet so fascinating. Well, OK, there was that one guy in college, but he also had frequent conversations with Abraham Lincoln so we're not going to count him.

Carter was in the room with a nurse. When she saw Daniel, she came toward him with that look on her face - that big sister needs to comfort her little brother look. He didn't need that. He didn't need to be told that things were bad but they would get better. Daniel needed to know that things were OK _now_. He didn't need to be coddled, he needed to be treated normally, and that was what I planned to do.

So when Carter started to talk to Daniel, I cut her off with a "I can handle it from here," kind of remark. I thought she was going to fight me on it, and I know the nurse wasn't happy, but I outrank them so they had to listen. Carter still managed to slip in a quick "It's OK." but they both left. Daniel didn't lift his head until the door shut.

His eyes went to the bed first. Looking for the restraints I figured. There weren't any here right now. I wondered if that was Carter's doing or Teal'c. Daniel looked so young sitting there in the wheelchair, so hurt and vulnerable, with his red eyes and redder nose. I knew that if I told him, _"OK kid, you're on your own_." and walked out of there, he'd find a way to justify it based on his own shortcomings. It would be OK to be abandoned because he deserved it.

I knew he was scared, I knew he was exhausted, ashamed, weighed down with sedatives and coming off his adrenaline high. I knew how he felt. So, in true military fashion, I asked him how he was doing.

First he didn't know how he was doing, then the scientist in him took over and I got a laundry list of his emotional and physical state. He added one I hadn't thought of - he was hungry. Even he sounded surprised to realize it. Thank God, something I could take care of right away. And really, getting some food into him would probably take care of some of his other general ailments.

I told him to get changed and I'd get him some food. There was PJ's on the bed and a convenient washroom so I helped him up out of the wheelchair. He walked like an old man. And he still had a death grip on those Kleenex. I had a hockey stick once that I slept with all the time, you know, until Sarah complained. Anyway, I didn't like having it out of my sight. I wondered what significance Kleenex had for Daniel beyond the obvious.

When Daniel was safely stowed in the washroom, I popped the door into the hallway to ask Carter - and I knew she'd be there with Teal'c - to get Daniel some food, something easy to chew, that would be easy on stomach that'd been empty for who knew how long. And I told her to be sure to include Jell-O. And not to include any sharp utensils.

She asked how he was doing, I said he'd be OK. Then she asked - because there would be no way of stopping her - about the shot fired in the storage room. Great - ask me about it before I had a chance to decide how to phrase it in my report.

"He was scared and he didn't want me to see him, so he shot out the light." I told them. Carter nodded but she didn't look like she believed me. She didn't believe her commanding officer. I'm hurt. But she went off to the commissary.

Teal'c stood unmoving and unmoveable at the door. It was pretty clear that he wanted to say something. I could tell because - because - well, you just have to understand the sutbleties of his facial expressions. I looked at him and he said,

"Even a warrior spirit can bear only so much."

Well yes, that's true. But Daniel not only has a warrior's spirit, he has a survivor's soul. The little I know of his life, he's needed it. I told Teal'c again that Daniel would be OK.

"He has us."

I went back into the room to wait for the food and keep an ear on Daniel. He had the water running. If we'd been at home I would've encouraged him to take a nice long hot bath, but we only have showers here on base, and there's no way Daniel's strength would've lasted that long.

After not too long, Carter was back with a tray of food. I think she was disappointed that Daniel wasn't in the room. He still had the water running in the bathroom. I think she wanted to stay but that wouldn't do Daniel any good. He didn't need, 'how are you doing?' and 'can I do anything for you' or any kind of nonsense like that. He needed to be told that wrong is wrong and right is right and - well, you know. He didn't need to be coddled.

"Don't be too hard on him sir." She said. Hard? Me? Me be hard on Daniel? If I was ever hard on Daniel, the entire SGC would be down on my neck, from General Hammond to Siler. Me, be hard on Daniel?

It occurred to me that the only person who _wouldn't_ be hard on me for being hard on Daniel was Daniel himself.

"I'll be hard on him if he needs it." I told her. She nodded and left. Almost as soon as the door shut behind her, the washroom door opened. There Daniel stood, Kleenex box in one hand and socks in the other. First thing, his eyes went to the bed. Still expecting those restraints. When he didn't see any, he looked up at me, then down at the table with the tray of food on it. He seemed kind of confused.

Seems to me a person's life must really suck when good things confuse them.

He hadn't been wearing socks when Fraiser restrained him before and I wondered if that's why he hadn't put them on now. Because he feet were freezing when I checked them out in the storage room. I offered to help him get the socks on but he sat on the bed and did it himself.

When I moved the table in front of him he saw the spoon - the single utensil on the whole tray. I told him I didn't want him poking his eye with a fork. What I didn't tell him was that I didn't want him poking anything of mine out with a fork either, if he got agitated again. There's a lot of drugs out there that'll come back and haunt you, even if all you ever took was one hit. I didn't know if sarcophagi had the same boomerang effect. I wasn't going to take the chance.

He seemed to believe me though, and he started to eat. He said the eggs were good and I took the credit and he smiled again. I tell you, a smile is a wonderful thing to see on someone who you nearly put on suicide watch a half hour before. Then he said thanks for the Jell-O. I told him about withdrawal.

Oops.

Hearsay naturally.

Daniel didn't seem to catch my slip. He didn't know he was going through withdrawal. What did he think? He was suffering physical, emotional, and psychological breakdowns. What did he think that was?

Well - this is Daniel. He thought he was being a jerk.

OK, there's that too. But a lot of it was just outside his control. I hadn't exactly been in my happy place since coming back from that planet.

OK, another mistake. When you want Daniel to rest, don't - I repeat don't - give him a problem to solve. He starts right in with wondering if naquada makes people cranky. I'm wanting him to talk about the withdrawal and what and who he's withdrawing from. He's saying how he had more of it pumped into his system but we were pretty close to it down in the mine. I'm interested in getting him to see how he's grieving Shaare, he's interested in conducting a study on the effects of naquada on a person's mood.

After saying his name to him like a thousand times, Daniel finally responds with one of his patented "you're interrupting my train of thought to express your limited view on the situation because?" all bundled up into "Jack?"

Only Daniel can pack a pound of insubordination into an ounce of words. If he was military he'd never get away with that.

If he wasn't my friend I wouldn't know that what he was actually doing was trying to avoid where I wanted the conversation to go. I said as much to him. I told him I didn't think the worst thing he was going through was physical withdrawal. He knew what I was talking about but he made believe he didn't.

I gave him an eyebrow that I think would've made Teal'c proud.

He blurts out that he didn't love Shyla. Well of course he didn't love her, anybody could see that. Even the couple of hours I got to see Daniel with Shaare I knew that she was his heart and his soul and every reason he ever survived right up until the moment he met her. No matter if some plain jane in a prom dress bats her eyelashes and drugs you silly, love like that never dies, never wears out, never ends. Of course he loves Shaare.

So I told him - wondering if I'd get yelled at this time - that I understood. His heart now and forever belongs to Shaare. Frankly, after Hathor and Shyla, Daniel's heart I think is the only part of him still untouched.

He says that he only wanted to save those people in slavery down in the naquada mines. _Welllllll_ - there's a lot of things I could say about the effort he expended to get his friends out of there, I don' t know that those other people stood any kind of a quick chance out.

I thought then about the similarities between Shaare and Shyla are. Both are the daughters of the chief of their nation, both have people in slavery, both had eyes for Daniel. The differences though - Shaare shared the slavery of her people and defied her father to help us fight Ra, and she loved Daniel body and soul. Shyla only seemed interested in Daniel's body. She sure didn't seem to care what she was doing to his soul.

So I told him I know that he loves Shaare. Of course I know that. Daniel's eyes started to tear up and I wanted to tell him again that everything would be OK but the door opened then and Fraiser came in.

Complete with a new set of restraints.

Daniel went so pale so fast I thought he was going to pass out. Nope, he did not want those restraints. Not that I blamed him, and if it was up to me I think I'd pass on them. But it wasn't up to me.

Then all of a sudden, it _was_ up to me. Daniel looked straight at me and asked me if he needed them. Why ask me? I don't want to be the one to make that decision. But Daniel was asking me. Why was he asking me?

It hit me all at once.

Because he trusted me.

Oh for crying out loud.

If I said he goes back in the restraints, he'd accept it and believe it was because he was a danger to other people, and worse - a nuisance. If I said he didn't go in the restraints, he'd still think he was a danger and a nuisance, whether he said it out loud or not. So I had to let him see that if he needed the restraints, if I thought he needed them, it was actually a good thing.

But I really didn't think he needed them. Standing there at the bedside, I didn't see a man who was a danger to himself or anybody else. I saw a sad, confused, lonely, frightened man who would let the world beat on him because he hadn't learned yet that he was worth anything else. I guess he never even learned it from me.

So I walked him through it.

Why did he need the restraints before?

Because he was a danger to other people.

_No_. For crying out loud Daniel. Because you were so agitated you were a danger to yourself.

Next question, was he planning on being a danger to himself from here on out?

He answered down to his hands, 'no'.

Was he planning on being a danger to anybody else?

'No.' down to his hands again.

Does he have any plans for the next day or so?

'Sleep'.

Good. About damn time too. Of course Daniel - being Daniel - no doubt thought I was leading up to the part where he got restrained again. Surprise, surprise, Daniel. No, I don't think you need the restraints. He gave me such a look of relief and disbelief I almost gave him another hug.

Of course I had to tell him that I wasn't leaving the room, just in case he needed the restraints later, but really I just wanted him – and Fraiser – to know that I wasn't leaving the room, I wasn't leaving him alone.

Once he started to process that bit of information, I gave Fraiser a go to have a look at him. I told her to especially look at his hands. I wanted to ask her about the guard, but not in front of Daniel.

She wrapped Daniel's hands, did all that doctor stuff she does to make sure he didn't keel over dead, before she declared him fit to sleep. Daniel couldn't look at her while she worked, though he kept shooting glances up at her. He was sorry he hurt her, God he was so sorry and he wanted to tell her but he couldn't.

That's OK, she knows.

I walked her to the door and asked her to shut the observation camera off, I wanted Daniel to have as much privacy as possible. I'd let her know if anything went wrong.

When I went back to the bed, I helped Daniel lay down and get covered up. He said, 'sorry' one last time. Oh Danny, everything's going to be fine. Let's just both get some sleep.

He closed his eyes and I counted off the seconds until he fell asleep. But this being Daniel, nothing is ever easy. He opened his eyes again and looked around. Just as I was going to ask 'what?' he grabbed the box of Kleenex off the table and pulled it under the blankets. Just like me and that hockey stick.

Finally, he fell asleep. I don't think I was ever so happy in my life to see someone sleeping. And I know I never felt so tired in my life either. I sat down in the chair next to the bed and closed my eyes. Life was good.


End file.
